The Art of Seduction
by countbluelie
Summary: Emma Swan is an artist who's a rising star in the industry. Regina Mills is a high-end escort known for her elusiveness as a Queen in the business. A chance meeting leads to unexpected sparks flying everywhere, but will the attraction last? Rating may change in future chapters.
1. Prologue: Parallel Worlds

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters of OUAT, though I seriously wish I do.

**Note:** This is an anonymous prompt I've received from Tumblr. All mistakes are mine since I don't have a beta (is this a good time to mention that I'm looking for one?) and any suggestions are appreciated. Feel free to contact me if you have any ideas, comments or requests. Thank you for reading this!

* * *

Clever fingers holding a paintbrush dance elegantly between a colorful palate and an almost-finished canvas, adding the final touches to the profile of a brunette in the fading rays of sunset. The only sounds penetrating the otherwise silent space were the breathing of two people and the soft thud on wooden floorboards as bare feet occasionally circled the posing model perched on a stool in front of the French windows. After a quiet nod, the paintbrush was set down with finality.

"We're done here." The simple sentence was like a switch that broke the spell the seemingly brooding brunette was under. A subtle yawn followed a catlike stretch as the agile figure hopped off the stool.

"Man you really took your time today! It's been, what, four hours?"

"Six, actually." That earned the artist an exaggerated eye roll.

"Really? You're gonna do that now?"

"Well, I didn't think it would be a problem, Ruby, seeing that it's almost nothing compared to your job." A series of chuckles, however, betrayed the indifferent tone. Heels clacked briefly on wood as Ruby crossed the short distance between them and smacked a lean, muscular arm, wincing a bit.

"Oh, almost nothing? You call that- Ow! Jesus, have you been working out these days? Again? I feel like I've just hit a wall! Ow. Those guns," Pretending to rub her fingers, Ruby gave a pointed look, "will be the death of some chick one of these days, I swear to God, Emma..."

"You sure know how to compliment a girl, Rubes." Reaching up, Emma pulled out the pencil that kept her hair in a messy bun, freeing the golden curls as they tumble across strong shoulders left bare in a navy blue overall over a white tank top. Rolling her shoulders, she added in a thoughtful tone, "It must be the sawing, though." Ruby looked up from her discreet pursuit of Emma's legs in the tight workwear at the new information.

"Wait, sawing? As in wood? I thought you don't take orders anymore."

"I don't, but this one's different. It's for Mary Margaret. She's been talking about replacing her desk for some time now, so I thought I could do that for her."

"She's really lucky to have such a caring daughter like you. I'll bet the woman who catches your eye will be even luckier." Emma laughs at that.

"Well, I guess you're gonna have to ask this mystery woman yourself when she actually appears."

Biting her bottom lip, Ruby hid a defeated sigh. Sure, she was a model with the looks and the confidence, and she's definitely interested, but for some reason none of that has been getting through that impossibly thick skull of Emma's. She's certain that the latter wasn't deliberately ignoring the signals; Emma's too genuine for tricks like that. However, there are only so many times a girl can try before admitting defeat. Sliding closer to Emma, Ruby wrapped an arm around the taller woman's waist.

"Maybe she's already here, you just haven't noticed her yet." Tipping Emma's face up with her free arm, Ruby offered her most seductive smile. "Buy me dinner?"

Emerald eyes searched her face as she held her breath waiting for the response she wanted, chanting over and over in her mind _Please work please work please work_. After what seemed like an hour of staring, Ruby gave up and started to withdraw her arm from Emma's cheek when the blonde leaned well into her personal space slowly. Every part of her body tingled as the other woman drew closer. Her eyes drifting shut from the startling proximity, all thoughts of a longtime wish come true vanished when she felt the brushing of lips on her left cheek. Her eyes flew open in shock and disbelief as she watched Emma pull away with a gentle smile and an understanding look in her eyes.

"You're a real gem, Ruby Lucas. But I'm afraid a cheeseburger with fries on the side is all you're getting." Turning away from her, Emma padded to the back of the art studio and disappeared up the wooden stairs.

"Wait here while I change into something else. I'll be down in less than five."

Ruby slumped against the counter next to the easel, shaking her head and letting out a small chuckle. Surprisingly, the artist's indirect refusal didn't evoke any bitter feelings, just a wistfulness that settled in the back of her mind. Still, she ought to drag her into that classy nightclub just down the block and grab a drink or two for her minor heartbreak, no?

_Emma Swan…you really are something._

* * *

Panting slightly as he untied the silk restraints from his ankles, the man sitting on the edge of the king-sized bed let out a long whistle at the curvaceous woman ruffling her impeccable hair in front of the dressing mirror.

"You surprise me every time, my queen. I'm beginning to think that no-touch rule of yours is in fact the ultimate prize you're saving for last." Tossing a sexy smirk and a raised eyebrow behind her back, the woman strutted out the door without a word. Realizing that his companion wasn't staying, the man hastily donned his clothes and chased after her without bothering to button up his shirt, revealing the edges of some ink on a tanned chest.

"Oi! Your majesty! Wait up!" Sprinting down the stairs, he looks around the dance floor for her, but she's nowhere to be seen. After wandering around aimlessly for a few minutes, he strode over to the bar and waved for the bartender. "Rum, straight up." Scanning the bar area one final time, he sighed and emptied the glass the minute the bartender set it down in front of him. No wonder they all call her the Evil Queen, he mused to himself. She is one very difficult lady to please, and even more difficult to catch. No matter though. _Ready or not, I will have you one way or another, Regina Mills._

Meanwhile, Regina had just stepped outside when a well-dressed man with a barely noticeable limp stopped in front her, leaning on his custom-made oak walking cane with a knowing smile.

"Regina." He received a curt nod.

"Mr. Gold." He laughed heartily in return.

"Stiff and formal as always, I see. How you wound my ego, dearie, seeing that we've known each other for more than a decade." Red lips curl into a taunting smirk as she heard the playful complaint.

"Well, Mr. Gold, since you are my superior and my mother's business partner, I consider my behavior not only acceptable but also appropriate. Wouldn't you agree?" Smile fading, he regarded her intently.

"You know my opinion on that matter."

"And you know mine." Neither of them being one to back down, they stared at each other for several seconds. Gold was the first one to break eye contact. Exhaling loudly, he turned to the street while he took out a cigar from his breast pocket and lit it, engulfing them both in a cloud of smoke as a silence heavy with unspoken words rest between them.

"I hate to admit that you're the best in the city. Hell, maybe the best in the country." Taking it for the peace offering it is, she smiled at his grudging tone.

"I don't think I'm the best, but the clients do pay well." Glancing sideways at her, he took another long drag.

"Like that Killian Jones guy?" Humming in response, she added in an afterthought, "I left him inside. He's probably at the bar." He chuckled at that.

"Always the cold one, I see."

"I'm thinking of cutting him loose, actually. Even though he pays exceptionally well, his interest in me is…disconcerting."

"So I've heard. There have been rumors that he intend to ignore your personal rules and bed you."

"Yes." Pursing her lips in distaste, she recalls the carnal look in his eyes and the not-so-accidental touches, and a shiver of discomfort travels up her spine.

"Do I need to step in?" Touched by his concern, she places her hand on his arm briefly.

"I can handle it myself. You don't have to exert your authority over such a trivial matter." He nods in understanding even though he's still worried. He respects her decisions.

"If you ever need that authority, dearie, just say the word." Sighing regretfully, he turns to leave. "I have a meeting with someone, so I will leave you to your evening stroll, Regina."

"Until next time, Mr. Gold." Resuming her earlier direction, Regina allowed herself a brief moment to consider her options concerning her current situation. There aren't a lot to choose from.

_Damn you Killian. What should I do with you?_


	2. Chapter 1: Aligning the Stars

Sunlight filtered through the cracks of the heavy midnight blue drapes in thin strips of gold, illuminating tiny flecks of dust particles floating in the drowsy morning air, and glided over slightly parted lips, the slope of a tall nose, finally coming to a stop at long lashes fluttering at the warmth of Apollo's touch. Eton blue eyes opened slowly, squinting against the light as a groan escaped from the figure still crumpled on the black couch.

"Ugh…I should've seen this coming. Ruby and her God-awful drinking habits…" Swinging her legs down as she sat up, Emma waited for the room to stop swinging in her blurry vision before she stood up and carefully crossed over to the kitchen, head pounding with every step, and helped herself to a huge glass of water after pressing a button on her answering machine.

_You have two messages. Message one: "Emma? It's Mary Ma-ahem. It's your mother. Well, I just want to remind you of our brunch date tomorrow morning? At ten? I know you're probably out with that model friend of yours—Ruby, isn't it? —so just be safe and try not to drink too much. She's very attractive. I think she likes you, but David, um, your father, he keeps telling me to stay out of your love life, so I'm not going to tell you what to do, but well honey, you know your father and I are very open-minded people, and it'd be nice to have her over sometime-" 9:20 p.m. Message two: "Hello? Emma? It's your mother again. I never did get the hang of leaving messages; I mean, they're supposed to cut you off after you're finished, not before! It just makes me so nervous. Anyway, I'll be at your place at ten with the food, so don't stay in bed too late! Oh, if Ruby is still there, she's more than welcome to join us! I'll bring extra portions! See you tomorrow! I'm so excited!" 9:23 p.m. End of messages._

Smiling fondly at Mary Margaret's childlike elation, Emma checked the time on her answering machine and froze. _9: 37 a.m._

Running for the stairs as if her life depends on it (_I suppose it does under these circumstances,_ she mused to herself), Emma sent out a short prayer to whoever was listening, _Please let me finish my shower in time._

_On that note, damn you Ruby Lucas for getting me drunk and then leaving with that brunette at the bar without telling me._

* * *

Exactly 24 minutes later, Emma sat down across from her mother at the dining table with a triumphant expression and slightly damp hair as the latter frowned at the lack of a third person.

"Emma, where is Ruby?"

"She went home last night after we hung out." _More like she ditched me for sex while I was drunk. _ But Mary Margaret doesn't have to know that. Digging into one of the paper bags on the table, Emma found what she was looking for and happily munched on a bearclaw. Mary Margaret tried not to look too disappointed.

"I thought things were going well between you and her. You have such a good working relationship and she obviously has the hots for you-"

"Mom!" Cutting her off in order to prevent another shared observation from her mother, Emma wiped at the corner of her mouth exasperatedly. "Look, I know that you and Dav- Dad really wants me to find someone and not be single anymore, but it's not as easy as you think, you know? For you guys, it's like the universe had already planned everything and even bought the flowers and stuff, but for the rest of us…there's even the possibility that it might never happen at all." Looking down at her hands, her voice lowered to almost a whisper as longing crept in. "What you have…it's like the kind of love that only happens in fairy tales. Like Snow White and Prince Charming, you know?"

"Oh sweetie…" Mary Margaret reached over and squeezed her daughter's hand, trying to convey to her how much she wished for her something similar, if not more beautiful. Knowing Emma's background, she can only imagine how hard it is to hold on to the belief that one day, someone is going to come along and sweep her off her feet with the love she deserves.

"It's fine, mom. I'm just grateful to have you and David as my family. I really am." Finally looking up and meeting her mother's eyes, Emma hoped that her mother could see the sincerity in her eyes.

"Me too, Emma." Smiling at each other, they shared a quiet moment that was soon broken by the loud rumbling of Emma's stomach. She grinned sheepishly as she reached for another bearclaw.

"You know I love your pastries." Shaking her head, Mary Margaret smiled softly at the wonder that is Emma Swan.

* * *

"Don't slouch, Regina, it's very unbecoming. Sit up straight."

"Yes, mother." Sighing inwardly at her mother's strictness, Regina took a deep breath and complied.

Brunch with Cora Mills has never been warm and relaxed. For as long as Regina could remember, her mother has always been cold, distant and relentless toward her, even more so after her father had passed away when she was little. Cora Mills inherited a large fortune from her late husband, and since then, she has held various tea parties and evening banquets in order to get closer to the rich and powerful to make herself one of them. Eventually, she did succeed—with a little help from under-the-table deals and a whirlwind of men that came and went—but she had also sacrificed her daughter's happiness and her chance to grow up in an uncomplicated environment. As a young girl, Regina learned all about the darkest part of human nature, the greed that swallows a man up and the envy that poisons a man's soul, the deceitful and malicious ways people use to fulfill their heart's desire. Sickened by what she'd seen behind the glamorous façades of the rich and famous, Regina tried every possible way to escape her mother's control, but to no avail…until Gold entered their lives.

"Regina." Snapped out of her thoughts, Regina did her best to appear focused. It has always terrified her how deadly her mother can sound when she chose not to raise her voice when she's displeased.

"I'm sorry, mother. I'm afraid I didn't catch the question." Cora sighed audibly and repeated her question with an air of impatience.

"Are you free at seven? Gold has set you up with an artist in town who's quite the topic among Maleficent and the others." Regina managed to stop a snort at the mention of the pompous and gossipy wives of her mother's male business associates.

"Am I to assume that I have a date tonight? Or am I expected to 'secure' another business deal for you?" Failing miserably at sounding less sarcastic, Regina cringed inwardly and waited for her mother's cutting response. However, it never came.

"As a matter of fact, it's neither, yet I'm not told of the details. All Gold had said over the phone was that he'd drop you off at some art studio for the appointment with the artist."

Cora left shortly after leaving clear instructions from Gold: dress casual, act natural, and be nice. Regina would've been amused by Cora's confusion if she weren't as clueless as she was. It was apparent enough that she was not there for her 'services', which leads to the million-dollar question: what is the purpose of this meeting?

_Maybe Gold wants to start recruiting men now._

Whatever the reason, she will find out tonight. In the meantime, she should start thinking about what to wear.


	3. Chapter 2A: When Two Planes Crash

Standing in front of a plain, heavy metal door, Regina sighed quietly to herself. _I've always thought artists have extraordinarily good taste. Looks like I was only half right._

Unsure of what to do due to the very limited information she had been given, Regina took a deep breath and opted to knock twice. Well, 'banging' would be more accurate, but it's not like whoever's behind the door would know the difference anyway.

A muffled "Wait a sec!" and a series of sounds indicating that things have been knocked over echoed faintly in the empty corridor, and Regina raised a skeptical eyebrow. _Lacking taste AND functioning motor skills? How did this guy manage to become one of the most anticipated artists in town?_

Without warning, the door swung open, leaving her face-to-face with a woman. A _very_ attractive woman. Gaping silently, her eyes took in the blond curls that rested over strong shoulders barely hidden in a plain white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal bulging arm muscles and what appeared to be a flower tattoo at the inside of a pale wrist smudged with charcoal, the first two buttons left open to taunt an enticing view with a swan necklace dangling just above the chest bone, and the bottom of the shirt was tucked into a pair of faded destroyed skinny jeans that ended in a pair of black Doc Martens Alfie. Tasteless, really, in her usual standards, but in that moment, Regina couldn't for the life of her think of anything but what could be under this very attire which, surprisingly, complemented the woman's figure in the best of ways. Looking back up, Regina blushed at the tilted head and slow smirk that seemed to be saying, _See anything you like?_

Not expecting things to turn out this way, Regina cleared her throat somewhat awkwardly, wanting to regain some balance.

"I'm here to see the artist? I've been told that we have an appointment." _Thank God I don't sound as flustered as I'm feeling right now. _Being caught staring was embarrassing enough.

"Oh really? An 'appointment' with the artist?" Registering the light teasing tone, Regina felt the tugging of a smile on her lips. However, she attempted to sound unaffected.

"Yes, really. Is he inside?" The blonde's answering laugh surprised her.

"Sorry to break it to you, princess, but last time I checked, I'm still all woman. And you're early."

"_You're_ the artist?" Realizing how that could be taken, Regina backtracked, "No offense, but-"

"None taken. I hope you're not terribly disappointed." Fighting the ridiculous urge to swoon at the blonde's killer smile, which came with surprising ease, Regina rolled her eyes instead.

"I think 'relieved' is the word you're looking for. Do people often mistake you for a man before they meet you in person?" The blonde winked at her before answering.

"Only the pretty ones." Opening the door a bit wider indicating that Regina should follow, the blonde walked back inside. "Come on in, Madame Mills. I believe we have a date."

* * *

_Earlier that morning—_

Unsurprisingly, their brunch lasted well over lunchtime, and it wasn't until a call from David did they notice the time.

"It's almost three already? Time really flies when I'm with you, Emma." Mary Margaret stood up and started cleaning the table. "We have to do this more often! It's so much fun to catch up over food and coffee."

"Mom, I think having brunch together every other day counts as 'often'." Unable to keep the smile out of her voice, Emma playfully shoulder-bumped her mother. Suddenly, the latter looked up excitedly.

"I know! Maybe we should have brunch every day!" Emma chuckled fondly at that.

"Well, I'd love to, but we can't, because you have morning meetings with board members sometimes and I have early sessions with models once in a while, remember? That's why we agreed to meet up every other day for brunch in the first place." Emma explained patiently as if she was speaking to a child. There are times when she'd wonder if Mary Margaret really is the older of the two, but then she would recall all the times the other woman had saved her from herself with that childlike innocence of hers, and thank the heavens for sending Mary Margaret into her life and offering her a second chance.

"Hello? Earth to Emma!" Waving a hand adorably in front of Emma's face, Mary Margaret tried to catch the attention of her suddenly thoughtful daughter. Moments like this make her wish she knew what was going on in Emma's mind, but she trusts that her daughter would share when she's ready. After all these years, she's learned to be patient when it comes to things as such.

"Sorry, I must've spaced out for a minute. What were you saying?" Shaking herself from her thoughts, Emma turned to face her mother fully and received a pointed look.

"I was just reminding you _as your agent_ that I've set you up with a date tonight. Seven sharp, so be ready fifteen minutes early. Women like to be waited on instead of the other way around."

"Wait, what?" Bewildered, Emma stopped in the middle of picking up a used napkin and stared at her mother with a blank expression. "A date? A 'date' date? But you said you were telling me this as my agent…?"

"Well, you told me a while ago that you could use another model for your sketches, and someone told me that there's this woman who happens to be one of the most gorgeous women in the country, so I asked around about her and eventually got hold of her boss, Mr. Gold."

"I've heard of him." Sounding surprised, Emma tried to remember where she heard his name. "He owns, like, most of the clubs in the city, doesn't he? Wicked rich, too. There are also rumors that he, uh, runs some extra 'business' on the side…you know what I mean?" Lowering her voice, Emma continued in a conspiratorial tone, "Drugs, super classy escorts, that sort of thing."

"Ahem. About that." Looking uncomfortable, Mary Margaret started to fidget. "This woman is one of the most edible bachelorettes in the city, but because she's also known to be extremely elusive, the only way to get her to accept an invite is to buy her time."

"What do you mean 'buy her time'? What does she really do?" Sighing, Mary Margaret crossed her fingers and spilled the beans.

"She's one of those 'super classy escorts' you've mentioned, although they call her the Queen in the business."

"_What?_ Are you saying that we're pretending to be her client so she would agree to come over and maybe consider being my model? You did mention that she's extremely elusive, right? How is this even going to work?"

"Well technically, _you_ are the client, so you're gonna have to use those infamous charms of yours, sweetie. It's out of my hands now. I did get you a date which, mind you, is anything but simple. That woman has a full schedule all the way into Christmas, and it's only August! She's quite popular, you know. Being beautiful and intelligent and all." Emma threw her hands in the air in an act of surrender.

"Alright, alright, you've got me convinced. Seven, is it? I'll be ready in time."

"You better." Preparing to leave, Mary Margaret thought of one last thing:

"Oh by the way, her name is Regina Mills."


	4. Chapter 2B: When Two Planes Crash

_Present Time_

Motioning for the now composed woman to sit on the other side of the black couch, Emma busied herself with drink preparations in the kitchen while sneaking glances at her guest every now and then. Sure, she had Googled a couple of pictures out of curiosity, but nothing—not even the club promotion poster where a lot of leather and more than a lot of skin was involved—had prepared her for Regina Mills in the flesh.

Dressed in a black Alexander McQueen stitching leather dress with a pair of black Noemi Bootie by Alexander Wang and a flashy knuckle box clutch also by McQueen, the woman's definitely dressed to kill, and Emma would be lying outrageously if she said she didn't like the assemble. Hell, she's already having a hard time keeping herself from drooling. Giving herself a vigorous mental shake, she carried two mugs to the living room and set them on the glass table in front of the couch.

"I assume you're a coffee person?" Her guest looked pleasantly surprised.

"I am. Thank you." Sipping tentatively, Regina hummed appreciatively at the hot beverage. "Your coffee-making skills are quite impressive. You used a siphon pot?"

"Yes, with fresh Taiwanese beans. Organic." Regina nodded thoughtfully.

"Interesting choice."

"A friend of a friend roasts all sorts of beans. Kinda like a hobby. She tells me that this is the perfect choice for evenings, as she managed to avoid drawing out too much caffeine while maintaining its natural flavor." Emma furrowed her brow as she tried to recall the exact words, "Caramel and some sort of flower, I think. Oslow? Oscap? Something that starts with that…" Regina chuckled quietly at her adorable look of confusion.

"They're called Osmanthus, dear."

"Oh yeah! Right, um…" Amused at Emma's rapidly growing blush, Regina decided to spare her for the moment and gently set her mug on the glass before crossing her legs elegantly:

"I'm sure you didn't just invite me here for coffee, Miss Swan?" Grateful for the change of topic, Emma leaned forward with determination. _Honesty is the best policy, eh? Well, here goes for nothing._

"Actually, I wanted to discuss something with you…business-wise, that is." Regina did her best to hide her disappointment at Emma's confession.

_Business…and here I thought this just could be a date. How naïve can you be, Regina Mills? They all end up like this. Who could ever love the Queen, anyway? Foolish, so foolish of you, coming here unprepared. And to think that you even ogled her at the doorway!_

Regina cursed her own naivety. Steeling herself, she sat up straighter with all the regality of royalty:

"Very well. What can you offer in exchange for my services? Nothing is off limits as long as you can afford to pay the price. And do think carefully before you answer." Oblivious to the other woman's previous inner turmoil, Emma looked taken aback by the abrupt change and swallowed visibly. Before she could open her mouth, however, Regina stopped her with a look. "I have only one rule: you don't get to touch me. I don't care if you can offer me a lot more than what I charge or that you're made of gold. If you so much as reach for me in the middle of whatever we're doing, you will never see me again."

"Alright alright, I get it. No touching. Can you, um…well, please don't be so tense." Raising both hands in front of her with her palms facing the other woman, Emma tried to switch tactics:

"I guess I shouldn't have said anything about 'business', huh? It's much too vague considering our…circumstances. I did pay for tonight, but not for your services. I paid for your time because I wanted to sign a contract with you, and I couldn't meet you any other way because no one knows where you are during the day. That's why you're here now. I'm sorry I set you up. But I meant no harm, I swear." Regina's poker face faltered slightly as her hurt pride made room for her brain to register what the artist was saying to her. _She paid for my time just to sign a contract with me? Even Mother didn't know this part…this is much too different from what I'm used to dealing with. Gold, what are you playing at this time?_

Feigning nonchalance, Regina tried to sound as bored as possible:

"Well, seeing that you've already bought my time, you might as well make it worth the price and say what you want to say."

Emma saw through the act and was surprised at the other woman's wary interest, but she's not about to let an opportunity slip away, especially not one as intriguing—and if she's being honest with herself, downright appealing—as this.

"You can consider it a part-time job, I suppose. It's not even remotely close to a job because you don't have to do anything. Except move around when I need you to. All you have to do is sit somewhere—or stand, it depends on what I'm aiming for—and don't move. That's all. I'll also do your makeup and costume for you." Seeing a raised eyebrow, Emma added hurriedly, "Or I'll just let you do it yourself. No touching. I remember, and I'm fine with that. Totally fine. I'm sure you're great at posing since you always look fantastic in photos. Not that I've seen a lot of them. Your photos, I mean. Anyways, what I'm saying is that I don't- I won't- if I need you to change your posture, I'll just tell you what to do instead of touching-" She stopped mid-sentence at the sight of red lips tilting upward in an amused quirk.

_This is a good sign, isn't it? She's almost smiling; that's good, right? _"Is there something on my face?"

"You're rambling." Came the teasing reply as Emma felt heat rising to her cheeks:

"I kinda do that when I'm nervous…?" Inwardly swooning a bit at the blonde's unguarded reaction, Regina went easy on her:

"If I understand correctly, you want me to be your model. Under a contract." Not trusting her clumsy way with words, Emma simply nodded. She held her breath and waited patiently as the other woman thought it over.

Correction: _Tried _to wait patiently. In order to keep from fidgeting, she told herself to look at the glass table, only to end up with her eyes glued to perfect toenails painted crimson as they peeked from those booties that only served to highlight toned calves, and her mouth went dry when Regina re-crossed her legs (consciously, of course—it is her job to know when she has caught someone's attention and make the most of it, after all—yet Emma is none the wiser). Forcing herself to look up with more effort than she'd care to admit, she found herself staring into knowing dark eyes. _Busted._

"I'll sign the contract." Hearing those four words, Emma was so overcome with emotion that her mouth opened and closed like a fish, unable to form a complete sentence to express whatever struck her.

_Omigod she said yes! I have no idea what made her change her mind but to hell with it I don't frickin' care because SHE SAID YES!_

Regina, on the other hand, was secretly pleased to see Emma's reaction. Refusing to further examine the curious fluttering sensation in her stomach, she waved a hand carelessly:

"As for the details, ask your agent to contact my boss." Finally finding her voice, Emma, still stunned at Regina's acceptance, fumbled to ask the most important question of all:

"So…well…when can you come over for our first session?"


	5. Chapter 3: They Say Three's the Charm

**Note:** Hey there! I'm so sorry for the late update; work has been crazy, so I didn't have a lot of time to work on this, but now that most of the work is over, updates will be faster, I promise. Thank you for your utmost patience and warm messages. -countbluelie

* * *

Chapter Three: They Say Three's the Charm, But it Only Takes Two to Tango, and One Look to Fall in Love

Staring out the large window overlooking the city, Regina tried to stand as still as possible in her favorite pair of high-heeled boots even though her calves are starting to protest. Sure, her legs look perfect and she's used to wearing higher heels, but her usual work description does not include staying in the same position for long periods of time (_well, some clients would have special requests, but then I always get to move my arms or legs since to fit the fantasy, _she thought to herself) while being closely observed by another person. What made it all the more difficult was how inappropriately that other person had dressed, although that traitorous mind of hers begged to differ. _Is it even legal to have arms like _that _and wear only a ribbed tank top that looked too tight to be comfortable? Are those outlines her abs…? Get a grip Regina Mills!_

Inhaling deeply as she quieted her rampaging thoughts, Regina tried instead to think about the last time she was so comfortable with a silence that filled the room as one would imagine the aroma of freshly baked cookies would swirl around the kitchen. Before they started, Emma had offered to put on some music, but she had said no, thinking that it wouldn't take too long and, to be completely honest, she had wanted to seize the chance to know the other woman better. What she didn't count on was how serious Emma was about their session.

Sneaking a glance at her—well, as close to sneaking as one could be while posing with their head turned away, that is—Regina found herself unable to tear her gaze away from the artist's face as she did her sketch. The sheer intensity of the artist's focused gaze burned her skin as the other woman pursued every detail of her body with unwavering concentration—yet there was hardly anything lustful about it, nothing remotely close to the purely sexual ogling she's familiar with receiving from her mother's hypocritical "gentlemen" friends and the leering men in the streets; Emma's look was one of absolute admiration, like the gentlest caress on her skin, and she felt a surprising wave of longing wash over her when the blond raised her hand, holding the charcoal pencil loosely between slender fingers, and traced the curve of her spine in the air with the most tender expression laced with a hint of affection. Regina could almost swear she felt the heat of the artist's soft touch through the black trench coat and the simple LBD she wore under it.

Originally she had wanted to wear something bolder and more provocative, something from her closet for work, but she decided against it after a moment's hesitation. For some reason, she didn't want Emma to see her in the way others do: a woman who knows her assets and offers them in exchange for quick money, blatantly displaying her sexuality for the world to see, not caring what was thought of her. During her first meeting with the artist, Regina had realized that yes, apparently she still cares about what people think about her; or, more specifically, what a certain naïve blond thinks about her. The realization had shocked her, but it served as a more acceptable reason for her emotional outburst upon hearing the mention of work coming from the artist than…other possibilities, something she isn't ready to venture into just yet.

_Is this normal? Losing my calm like that when I can still be composed with all of my clients? I hate losing control, and yet I felt a strange sense of liberation when it happened with her, a woman I know nothing about, a stranger who simply wants to _look_ at me rather than to own me… What _is _this feeling?_

What made it all the more confusing was that every subtle head tilt, every lip-bite, every temporarily scrunched-up face only served to speed up her heart rate and stir the butterflies in her abdomen, a feeling she's gradually grown accustomed to but still haven't identified its source. Lost in her thoughts, she closed her eyes momentarily…and lost herself in a sea of stormy laurel green the moment she opened them.

* * *

Time seemed to stretch on forever as they simply stared at each other, the tension between them charged and crackling with underlying emotions and unspoken words, neither of them willing to be the first to advert their eyes. Emma could feel her pulse quickening in response to darkening bistre eyes, the thundering of her heart unnaturally loud to her own ears as she continued to lock eyes with the enigmatic and alluring woman in her studio. In the past, she's met her fair share of attractive women alright (professional supermodels, A-list celebrities and actresses, exotic dancers and performers…the list is endless, really), but they all fade in comparison, and had it not been for the hard-learnt lessons she's had in the past, she would have been a goner by now for sure.

_Although I'm pretty certain I'm not at all far from it, _she smiled wryly to herself. Forcing herself to look away from hypnotizing pools of brown—_what is it that they say about being the first to break eye contact?_—and back to her roughly-finished sketch, she decided to try something else.

It was obvious that Regina knew how to present herself, and while Emma truly enjoyed the view—she was already past denying the strong pull between them, anyway—she wanted more. The Regina who was currently posing in front of the window was just one of the many personas of Regina the Queen, an identity she uses solely for business. No, Emma wanted a glimpse behind all that façade. She's willing to bet that there's a lot more depth to the woman than what meets the eye, and she has just the right trick in mind.


End file.
